Bandeaus and Motherfuckers
by bleububbletea
Summary: MiniCollection introducing Banner (Hunter) and Marabell Del Mar (Warlock); Exploring character developments and game lore with this-Banner never thought he'd be involved with such a deranged woman. Rated M for language and tits.
1. Zero

AN: This was the second time I had written for Marabell, I hope you like..

Blanket Disclaimer- I do not own Bungie, Destiny, etc, I just really like it. My characters are my own.

Zero - Cosmodrome

Marabell scowled at her Ghost, hissing as it bumped into her injured arm.

"Stop, you hunk of junk, you're making it worse." Her cracked helmet lay a ways away, and she felt blood pulse from her wound. She rose her hand to her mouth, taking off her gloves with her teeth and tossing them from her mouth to the snow covered ground.

"Miss Del Mar-"

Her head snapped up, and her blue eyes narrowed dangerously at him. "I'm going to need you to be quiet, or I will stuff you down a Captain's throat." She huffed at her Ghost, putting her back against the shell of the airplane they were in.

Hiding out in her ship for a few straight days was not what she had intended, and Tess was off with that bloody Titan again, so she was alone. And waiting, for them. To come back. She growled dramatically, blowing out labored breaths as she dug her fingers into the pulsing bullet wound.

"Fucking- ah ha ha!" She shrieked in real pain, trying to ignore the squelching sounds as she dug around for the bullet. It was deep, way to deep. She didn't even feel it yet, for Traveler's sake. She bit her lip, hard, tasting copper.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop-" She told herself, but kept pushing her fingers deeper. The wound widened, skin tearing audibly. The smell of death clawed at her nose and she looked to a dead Thrall beside her.

"You need a breathm- GODS!" She threw her head back against Golden Age metal, shuddering. Her arm felt numb. "Ghost; knife." She rushed out, gesturing with her bloody digits to a Dreg's discarded blade. The bot narrowed his optics at the insane Warlock, but transferred it to her open palm.

Marabell gripped the blade tightly, and positioned it above her wound, on the sleeve of her blue robes and cut deep and quick. The cut was sloppy, the knife cut into her skin shallowly, but gave her more access the arm bleeding arm.

"Get me back to my ship, boterella." Marabell told her Ghost, who floated in midair uncomfortably, but teleported them back.

She was in the medical room of her ship, now, sitting on the hard mattress with the knife hovering over her skin.

"Stupid, fucking, cunt-lacking, Fallen," she cursed before plunging the knife into her arm, deep and fast.

"You're INSANE! STOP!" Ghost yelled, flitting around frantically. Marabell said nothing, jerking the knife around without a sound.

She was carving into her own skin, stating straight ahead, poker faced. No sound, no sound, no sound, no sound.

The pain was near unreal, but this time it was self inflicted. She didn't think, before stabbing herself with the serrated knife. She didn't think, before charging into the horde of scavenging Fallen. She didn't think, when the first couple rounds of metal entered her armor.

And she was barely thinking now.

She made a sound of approval, before dragging the knife upwards, with the bullet, letting the metal weapons bounce off the pristine tile.

"You chose me, Ghost. You chose me." Marabell gave a laugh, and slammed a fist repeatedly into her weeping arm. She didn't bother bandaging it up, her Light was knitting together the teared muscle fast.

"Now." She sighed, letting her Ghost transfer lounge clothes onto her. "I want popcorn."


	2. One - The Meeting

One - The Meeting

"And what did you say then?"

"I said…" She looked at the target through her scope, focusing on the head. "Biiiiiiiiiiiiitch," Her finger punched the trigger, a bullet lodged between his eyes. "Yes, bitch! Yes!" She pumped her fists in the air. She sat back on her haunches with a shit-eating smirk. Her eyes traveled over to her friend who was still looking through the scope of her own sniper.

Her friend scoffed, squinting into the scope. Then she sighed and gave her friend a nasty look. "You really said that? You stole my kill by the way."

"Totally did!" She raised a fist to the night sky with a wide grin.

"Marabell! Watch out!" Her friend yelled right before a bullet sailed into her friend's raised hand.

"Motherfucking FUCKER!" Marabell shrieked, jumping up from their hiding spot, cradling her hand. "Who did that?!"

The man across the arena looked from his sniper scope at the deranged Warlock who was screaming into the night. He shook his head, aiming for her head. _Warlocks_ , he sneered mentally.

"Come on! Come out, you little moth-"He shot a bullet into her leg, just for kicks. "AH!" She screamed dramatically, falling to one knee. She waved her hand cannon around wildly, until she spotted the glowing sniper in the scope of her gun. "I see you!"

She aimed her hand cannon, and shot at the man holding the sniper. He yelled when it lodged into his shoulder, dropping his sniper and sliding out of her view point. Marabell snarled. "That's what I thought, bitch! Come at me!"

"Bell, get down!"

"Not now, Florence!" She cocked the gun sideways like in the movies, and in a heavy Irish accent she yelled, "Now c'mon out 'er laddie,"

"At least let me get the bullets out so you can heal!" Florence whispered urgently. Marabell ripped out the two bullets with her free hand, tossing the bloodied metal to her friend who yelped, catching them in gloved hands. "We don't even know where his other teammate is!"

"Oh, I've been keeping an eye on that fucker, he's over there!" She yelled, and pointed to where the other man was stationed, waiting for the right time to take them out. Florence furrowed her eyebrows as Marabell hopped down from where they were stationed at the Widow's Court, readying her gun.

 _"Then why hasn't he shot us? You gave away my position too!"_ Florence's voice crackled into her ear piece, and Marabell could hear her readying her sniper. _"I've got eyes on you, Bell."_

Marabell crept closer to where the man who had shot her was, watching her scanner. "My guess?" She let out a breath, crouching behind a stone wall. Her scanner pulsed red. "This little motherfucker over here is telling him to hold off until we've separated."

Florence hummed softly, before growling. " _But we have!"_

"I know." Marabell laughed quietly but wickedly as she heard a sniper round pierce the night sky, and Tess' shriek. _"You sacrificed me!"_ Marabell watched as Bravo's pointed went up by 110.

"Necessary evil, I say." She breathed under her breath, aiming her hand cannon at the man perched on the cobble archway across the arena. No doubt he'd already be looking for her. Florence spit out cuss words as her Ghost revived her, and Marabell mumbled cuss words back to her distractedly. She had a clear view, and was out of view from the other sniper. She unstrapped her own sniper from her back and loaded at quickly, and aimed at the man who had shot her. _Horrible sniper_ , she told herself. _He's a_ _horrible sniper_.

Then, he looked at her with his own sniper.

"Motherfucker," She hissed and pulled to trigger the same time he did. There was silence, and the two snipers both fell back, bullets finding their marks on each other's heads. **_Bravo nearing victory!_**

There was a snicker across the comms _, "So you both took each other out?"_ Florence said.

"Good sniper. He's a good sniper." Marabell muttered disdainfully as she was revived next to her friend, rubbing her helmet. "I have a headache. New plan. We split up."

Tess didn't ask, just gave a cackle and slinked away from a grumpy Marabell. The two Warlocks went separate ways, intent on finding the two males. _"We have three more minutes left in this match, and they're up by 160 points."_

"Whatever. I can take these fuckers out. Let's bet that Titan is in the same place, look there. I think I know where that motherfucking Hunter spawned." Marabell growled, and switched off her comm piece.

It was quiet as the Warlock rounded multiple corners, sticking out her hand and waving it around before fully turning the corner. Traveler knows that man loves to shoot her hands. She crossed a puddle of murky water, and then she stopped.

She started jumping up and down in the muddy water, water splaying on the dead grass. She had a childish grin on underneath her helmet, and started to moonwalk. She stuck out her arms, and waved them around. It reminded her of when she first woke up, in a sopping puddle on Venus

"What are you _doing_?" Came an incredulous voice.

She twirled, her blue tunic flaring out. "Why, I am dancing." She stopped, looking to see who was behind her, because it was _not_ Florence. The safety of a gun clicked off, and it was not her own.

"MOTHER _FUCKER_! ITS YOU!" She screeched upon seeing that it was the man who shot her hand. Her gun was quickly pointed as his own raised one. "Well, this isn't very nice, now, is it?" She impishly said.

Motherfucker sighed. "I really don't get you."

"You don't need to, it's crucible. Why haven't we killed each other yet?" She inquired; jerking her head around, an insane tone tinged her voice. Motherfucker didn't move an inch for a moment and it was silent. Marabell sighed, and jerked the safety off her hand cannon before shooting his hand. She cackled wildly when he dropped his scout rifle and held his bloody hand.

"What the bloody hell?" He growled and she kicked the rifle away and holstered her own hand cannon with a dramatic sigh, whispering to the cloudy sky before looking down to him again. She took a step towards him, water spilled over her boots, and mud covered the bottom of her dress.

"It is quite bloody," She gestured to his bleeding hand and the round that was lodged in it. "I'd get that out if I were you."

It was quiet for a moment, before she lunged at him with no weapons, only her gloved hands as crackling arc energy gathered at her fingertips. He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat as he ripped out the bullet and tossed it in the grass before looking up to see the mad woman in his face. She was screaming at the top of her lunges as she tackled him to the ground, and attacked him with a bolt of her arc energy.

Motherfucker yelled out as electricity bolted through his body, his brain felt shorted out for a few seconds before he lodged his throwing knife into her shoulder. Marabell hissed and leapt away from him.

"Motherfucker," She growled, yanking the metal knife out of her weeping shoulder, blood darkened her dress. "You got blood on my dress, you little-"She threw the knife on the ground. "Where'd you go?"

It was quite, and Motherfucker wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Her eyes widened when she realized the scout rifle she had kicked away from him was gone, its imprint was still in the grass.

"Fuck." She whispered, whirling around. In front of her was the warped near-invisible impression of Motherfucker. He lapsed back into sight, and his Dead Orbit issued rifle was pressed to her helmet. Her hands curled into fists. There was a reason she hated Hunters. This was it. So sneaky and deceiving.

"I know you want to." He quipped and Marabell growled, and stomped on his foot, rolling around him and kicking his feet out from underneath him. Motherfucker stumbled, almost falling, but catching himself in time to see Marabell stupidly sprinting away from him.

Her booted feet fell heavy as she ran for her life, panting dramatically. A bullet whizzed past her ear, and she screeched, dropping onto her stomach. She rolled under a shielded area quickly without any damages. She activated her communication again.

"You didn't take the damn sniper out!?" She growled, checking her magazine on her gun. Loaded.

There was the faint sound of clicking a magazine into place as Tess replied. "Calm yo' self. " She said with her twangy accent.

Marabell stuttered. "H-Have you missed him twice; you're reloading your sniper! And I thought Motherfucker was a bad shot…" Marabell trailed off, grumbling profane words, before adding: "Take him out!" She switched off the comms, hearing shots being fired, meaning the sniper was distracted. At the moment, Motherfucker wasn't on her mind, and he wasn't showing on her scanners. She stuck out her hand around the corner, waving it spastically.

"Come and get me, Motherfucker," She mumbled, sticking out her other hand and waving it around, trying to lure him out.

There was a faint, barely audible click, and the sound of a trigger being pulled. Her scanner beeped, showing he was crouching a ways away. Her bullet sailed through where her hand had been before and she slid out from her hiding spot behind a broken sign. Marabell heard punches being thrown behind her, and the flare of solar energy. She pushed rounds nosily into her Hakke shotgun, and stretching her neck out. The flare from Motherfucker's sniper rifle was blinding, and she pulled back.

Marabell charged him, jumping into the air, gliding through the air like an old ballerina dancer, and landing behind him, stumbling. "Never can get that right," She muttered disdainfully, aiming her shotgun at his exposed back.

Marabell probably would have made the shot, if Florence hadn't of rammed into her, knocking them both through the crumbling stone wall. She was screaming loudly, panting, and shaking her legs out. There was a large bullet hold in the folds of her robs, Marabell saw, as her friend scrambled over her, taking off through the remnants of the old cathedral.

She must have drank more energy drinks before this match, Marabell decided fleetingly before another throwing knife lodged itself into the skin of her stomach. Blood darkened her blue robes, and she coughed in surprise as Motherfucker stood above her, hand cannon poised at her head. She rose her hand up, and he shot it.

Growling, she jerked her knee up, connecting with his crotch. He fell on top of her, hand cannon dropping.

Her shotgun was the only thing keeping hit chest from hitting hers. If he could see her face, he'd snarl at her triumphant smirk.

"Fuck."

The bullet left a gaping hole in his ribcage, and she shoved him limp body off hers, and stood. She bowed to him Ghost, who was floating around above his Guardian's body, and sprinted after Florence.


	3. Two - Salad-in

"I have a name."

"Oh, I know you do, Motherfucker."

There was a sigh and the hum of an insane magic user. He opened his mouth, and it seemed like she anticipated it because she said; "and I don't want to know it."

"You're a little ray of sunshine." He commented dryly. She threw him a humongous grin, reloading her hand cannon carefully, and then removing her gloves.

She wrapped a roll of bandages around her hand. "So I've been told. This has to be the tenth time you've shot my motherfucking hand. Same hand. Every time. The least you can do is switch it up a bit. Like..." She trailed off, watching him struggle in the bonds she had tied him in. "Why not switch it up a bit? Add some excitement to our relationship."

He recoiled, jerking his hands. "Relationship?" He questioned incredulously. Suddenly she was in front of him, her glowing eyes wide. Her breath smelled like cinnamon.

"You're in denial." She cocked her head sideways before nodding in complete understanding. "I get that." Her last sentence was soft. And Motherfucker almost thought she was sane. But then she stood quickly, walking to the other side of the room.

"I just want you to know, I love you." She said breathlessly with much emotion. How could the Vanguard stand her?

He scowled. "Why did I have to be paired with a woman like you?" He questioned, looking up at the ceiling.

"Well at least I know you think of me as a woman." She slid her hands over her curves he resisted watching her, was she ever serious? "Keep in mind, you shot me, AND THIS TIME WE WERE ON THE SAME TEAM!"

Motherfucker tapped his foot impatiently. "When will Jonah get back?"

Marabelle lowered her voice dangerously, adding a demonic edge. "Never. Flo ate him."

Motherfucker shifted relentlessly, ignoring her. He didn't question why he was tied up, because there were a million reasons the woman across from him could come up with. And he didn't want to know half of them.

She was dressed in lounge pants and a bright blue bandeau, which was unnerving to him, the fact she wasn't wearing a shirt.

Then she turned, and he saw the would on her arm that was oozing thick blood, staining her fluorescent skin. Her arm had been stabbed, cut into, mauled, and wasn't bandages. That's why she wasn't wearing a proper shirt.

"Marabell. Your arm." He used her name, which made her look up from securing her hand wound.

She crossed the kitchenette to him, waving her bandaged hand in his face. "Yea, I know. Fallen are sneaky." Marabell slid her hand down the side of his torso, and he tensed. She looped a finger trough his belt, slowly pulling out his throwing knife. "Here, Golden Boy." With the knife, she cut his bonds, and stood back up.

He stood, "Golden Boy? That's new. Can't say I don't enjoy it."

Marabell cackled, catching him off guard as she stabbed a cucumber. His eyes widened under his helmet. She was insane. Mad. Super charged with craziness.

The crazed Awoken woman sliced haphazardly across the black cutting board, and Motherfucker watched from a safe distance.

"I don't get you." He broke her cackling, and she stopping cutting, slowly putting down the knife and looked at him with a smile on her purple lips.

Her eyebrows rose. "No one does." It was one of the times she was serious, no crazed edge to her voice.

"Aren't Awoken supposed to be regal? Uldren would despise you." Motherfucker said lowly, watching her cut up other foods quickly and dangerously. She stuck the knife in between her sizeable breasts, using both hands to push all the vegetables into a pot.

"Me and Uldren actually get along." She quipped. And the man across from her stared at the sharp knife she stuck between her cleavage. "Quite well, actually."

Marabell Del Mar was an odd humanoid. Full figured for a Warlock, with wide hips, thick thighs, small waist, and large bust, she was not the stereotypical lanky Warlock. She was crazed, hating her own Ghost, anti-social, and seemingly touched by madness, he didn't know why he still hung around her. He also discovered her favorite color was blue, and she hates to be called short.

He watched her arm, still oozing red liquid.

"Why haven't you removed your mask? We're on Flo's ship. There isn't a lack of oxygen." She said, giving him an exaggerated stink eye.

"Because I know the second I do, you're going to throw a knife at my face." He said monotonously. She walked up to him, placing her steppy-stool Jonah had made for her down in front of Motherfucker, and stepped up so that she was near taller then the man in front of her.

Then, she pointed at her breasts. "Do you see this?" Motherfucker refused to look at her breasts.

"This knife. Is in between. My. Tits." She hopped off the stool, kicking it underneath the island and walked back to her meal. Puffing out a breath, she spooned dressing-drenched salad into two white plastic bowls, setting them on the island. He watched how her breasts moved with every step she took, but moved to where his bowl was.

Marabell placed a plate of diced tomatoes, olives, peppers, and a few other vegetables in front of him. She withdrew the knife from her breasts, throwing it into the sink.

"I want to know your name now." She said abruptly, sliding into the stool.

Motherfucker dumped all the olives into his small bowl. Marabell scowled, "Olive thief."

He ignored her, "Banner."

"Like..Bruce Banner." She summarized, a smirk on her plump lips. He cocked his head and she dismissed him with a wave of her hand, blood dripping onto the glass table.

She shoved a mouthful of leaves and dressing into her mouth, talking around the white dressing that dribbled down her chin.

"I hate salad." Marabell decided quickly, licking the excess white dressing. Banner rose a brow under his helmet at the crazy woman, who had a knife in between her tits, and who was trying to desperately reach the dressing that had somehow smudged on her nose with her tongue.

Then he looked at the small bowl of leaves, deciding if he was going to eat.

Marabell smacked her lips, daintily dotting her face with cheap napkins.

"I'm still calling you Motherfucker, Motherfucker." She clarified as she stood up, bouncing cheerily to the counter where she shoved the rest of her salad down the drain. Banner sighed dejectedly.


	4. Three - Noobs and Mugs

"Noob."

"What?"

"Noooooob."

Banner narrowed his eyes at the scrutinizing Warlock across from him. Only her eyes were visible from her coffee mug, and she narrowed her blue orbs at him.

"Noob."

"Noob?"

Marabell nodded assertively. "Noob."

The blue ceramic of her coffee mug went nicely with the blue themed interior of her ship. He often wondered what got him here, with a mad woman, floating in a hunk of metal through space.

Ah, Crucible.

'Happy, Happy Cabal' was written in an array of colors on her favorite coffee mug. What he found odd was that she owned more coffee mugs then she possessed glimmer, and she didn't even like coffee. She didn't like salad, either, but her fridge was full of various dressings and bags of lettuce.

Today, she was loose, billowy, dark blue skirts that varied in length, one side shorter then the other and was covered in was seemed to be glitter. She was also wearing her signature rainbow bandeau.

She studied him from over the rim of her mug, sipping noisily. If his helmet was off, she'd see him roll his eyes.

"Nooooob." She hisses lowly and gravely.

He's tried to figure out, he has. He really has. But it's just not worth it.

"Motherfucker."

He resisted the urge to respond to the name. Which was bad, because he actually, subconsciously, DID respond to it. Brainwash.

"Sugar me." She snapped her fingers.

Banner bit back a snappy remark on how much sugar she's added to that damn cup of whatever it is in the past fifteen minutes, and slid the shallow pale blue bowl across the black table.

She took it slowly, shadily sprinkling more sugar in her unknown drink. Her eyes watched his every move like he was a notorious mob boss. Banner itched to take his helmet off. But no, he couldn't. It'd give her what she wanted.

And he couldn't do that.

But...

What if she wanted him to keep his helmet on? He drummed his fingers on the table.

Why was he even still on this gigantic ship of hers? Because Jonah promised two days ago he'd be back in a few hours and he would never have to see the lunatic woman in front of him again.

She had totaled his ship while himself, Jonah, and Florence had been floating in orbit, crashing into it, forgetting to switch off the thrusters.

She had raised her hands defensively, saying that her shower took longer then expected. They didn't believe her until she materialized into Florence's' main cabin in a towel, screaming obscenities before composing herself, straightening out any wrinkles in her blue towel, before returning to her ship.

So her punishment was that he stay with her until the Vanguard can hook him up with a new ship.

In all actuality...

This seemed like it was his punishment.

He couldn't wander around aimlessly, because Marabell seemed to always be lurking around a corner, or watching him from the vents. Banner Mortell had given up.

She slowly sat her mug down, and he peered into it.

"Are you serious?"

"Noob."

"There's NOTHING in it, Marabell!" He yelled.

She lifted up a finger, the oversized sweater sleeve slid down her arm. "Correction. There is sugar." Marabell enjoyed his anger, as she loved staring at the void energy at her fingertips. He reared back, it was unhealthy to stare into the Void for too long. But it seemed she averaged thirty minutes a day just talking to it.

But indeed there was a pile sugar that she had filled to the middle of the cup.

"Happy, HAPPY, Cabal." She chanted madly, watching him clench and unclench his gloved hands.

He propped his head on the palm of his hand, opting to stare out the gigantic window that showed him the moon. Marabell went silent. Usually, she'd be making some noise, like running a wet finger around the edge of a glass to annoy him, or tapping her foot, sometimes she'd even rock back and forth to make the chair squeak.

There was a rustle of fabric, there's the noise, and she had leaned forward, face dangerously close to his. It would of bothered him of his helmet wasn't on.

Next second he was on the floor with Marabell on top of him, her small hands on either side of his helmet.

"Hey!" His hood fell back and she felt around quickly and efficiently, pressing two buttons on the underside of his chin, the helmet coming off.

Her lips were pouty, eyes wide in childish curiosity. Once again she was making no sound, but he was, handing coming up to shield his face.

She lifted the helmet off gently, placing it beside his armor-plated arm.

"You're like me." She commented, patting his cheeks.

"Crazy, lunatic-" Banner started, but stopped when he took in her childish stare. Her fingers touched his white hair, and poked his purple tinted flesh, watching as the cosmos moved under his skin. "What?"

She shrugged, standing up and straightening her billowy blue skirts. "Just wanted to see. Your eyes remind me of pumpkins." She commented, and he rolled his glowing orange eyes.

"Now that I've seen your face," she dumped the sugar back into the shallow bowl, pouring hot water into her Cabal cup, letting a steeper sink to the bottom. "Relax. Mi casa, su casa." She quipped, the insane edge to her voice present.

Banner stood, his white hair coming loose from his ponytail. He didn't say anything.

She waltzed out of the kitchen, swaying her wide hips unintentionally while sipping her blueberry tea. Marabell's form soon disappeared down the hallway, her hums echoed eerily.

Banner's eyes were drawn together, utterly confused, he was, at the Awoken woman who seemed to have a mental illness. Who cleared her for duty? Certainly not Zavala...maybe Ikora, she favors her magic users.

The Void Starer, the name passed as a blip in his mind. Marabell stared into the Void, but was not effected.

Did that mean she was immune?

Or did that just mean she's already completely insane?


	5. Four - Banner

_Banner_

What makes a Warlock go mad?

Is it..how they stare into the Void like it is a bright, pulsing star?

Or is it just that they think differently?

Maybe they just have so much knowledge, knowledge of things we shouldn't know, shouldn't _ever_ , know. Maybe they just have so many ideas, and theories...conspiracies, that they just _want it all_? They want to know what they are fighting for, why they are fighting? But that attracts attention.

That attracts _unwanted_ attention. Attention that is not warranted by the Vanguard.

They question themselves, they question The Traveler, they question their leaders. They are so unsure. Is that what drives them to madness? The unexplained, the mistrust, the unknown? It must be, it must be. Why else would Rey have Eyes all around? Because she's scared? On the brink of insanity? Or..she's attempting to prevent insanity, by being in the know of all that crosses her eye.

They want answers so bad, that they would give themselves to the unknown just to be known. Is it worth it? To know and not being able to pass on what you tried so hard to uncover, to prove? Is that what drives them, to answer their own questions at everyone else's expense? Do they want to share with the world what they discovered in the corners of space and time?

Osiris gave himself to his work, wanting to plunge himself in a sea of time and space fluxes, to uncover what no one else wanted to. He became obsessed with his work, as Toland lost himself the Hive. Both Warlocks. Both mad.

They want to know the truth so bad, so, so bad that they would die for it. Is that what drives a Warlock to insanity? Truth? The absence of it? And when they don't find it..what then? They hate to be floating on their backs in a sea of uncertainty, they want to know, to find, to achieve. They don't want to be on their backs when truth strikes them unexpectedly. No, they want to be ready. Always.

They're also indecisive. So utterly indecisive. They turn from one, sole thing, only to be distracted and wander around another idea, another plause. Another conspiracy. They're dangerous, oh so dangerous. You'll never know what's going through their warped minds, but just know, it isn't pure or pleasant. It is never pleasant in the mind of a madman, they wonder how to make you tick, what makes you respond, what triggers others response. Evil, they are. They do not have double motives, no, they have triple motives.

So dangerous.

Indecisive, anxious, curious. That is what drives them to madness.

"Ban-Ban, sugar or..honey?" Marabell looks at me with indecisiveness. She rolls a cube of sugar in her fingers and a vial of amber honey sits on her bare stomach. We are floating in orbit, with a view of Venus.

I don't bother looking in her cup, because it wasn't going to be filled with anything. But I do look at her. Her dirty blonde hair is matted from grease because she blew the water source while doping around in the kitchenette and she can't take a shower.

"Honey." I say, my voice sounds gravelly and congested. She woke me up abruptly, jumping on the couch and straddling my waist like a thrall. She had been hollering like a screeching Wizard.

She props her legs on the dashboard (in between her teeth she licks at the sube of sugar like it is a sucker), punches in coordinates and sits back, strapping herself to her seat. In her hands she is holding a different coffee mug. In bright pink letters in says 'Love Me Some Thrall Ball' against an orange background. The sugar cube is sucked into her mouth, her tongue slipping out between her teeth to lick her chocolate-colored lips. She dolls out honey into her empty cup. I roll my eyes and look ahead, swiping down my helmet.

Out of the corner of my eye I watch as she tip the coffee cup to her lips.

She's mad. She's already gone mad.

But the question in my head is:

What does she want to know?

There is a loud slurping noise and I growl instantly. "Really? It's actually filled this time?" She looks from in front of her to me, her eyes sliding slowly as she slurps louder on whatever liquid is in her cup.

The corners of her mocha mouth tilt slightly, but she doesn't give anything away as her eyes slid back to watching the scene of passing stars in front of her. I had to know.

I leaned out of my chair to peer into her cup and bite out. "Tea? Is that what you just had to have? Is that why the water source is blown?" She lifted the tea bag out of the purple tinged water, and then my forehead was wet, the herb-filled bag sliding down my face and hitting my legs.

Next thing I know, she is clutching her stomach laughing as a wolf howls, back raised from her seat like she was being lifted into the air. Her breasts heave with billowy laughter as I glare at her madness. She has stared into the Void _too_ long.

Her tea sloshes around in the cup and I watch as it splashes miraculously onto the controls. There is a hissing sound, and smoke curls from the controls of the old ship.

"Hey!" I holler above her obnoxious laughter, slapping her on the back as we were suddenly pulled out of warp, hovering in the atmosphere of Earth. I look below us, and the ship goes dark. She stops laughing, but not completely.

"O-ho-hooo shit!" She screeches as a giggle filters through her hysteria. She grabs my hand as my body starts to leave the seat. My heart is filled with dread. But she is laughing as she unstraps herself. She floats up, and so does her tea. Like a child, she tries to lick it as she floats farther and farther away from the liquid. "W-We gotta get out of here!" She gasps, holding her stomach.

"Nilla, round up all of our stuff, you idiot bot-o-light, dump it in the Vault..we're g-going down." My ears ring. I don't think I heard her right. We're going down?

Her fingers encircle my bicep and she pulls me out of the main cabin.

"What do you mean we're going dow-" I can't finish my sentence. Our bodies hit the top of the ship and I heard her moan, her fingers flexing around my upper arm. We're falling.

I can't hear anything but feel the sudden pressure against my skull as we are pushed out of the ship. Then I hear Marabell's insane laughing as we are falling through the atmosphere.

She's gripping her cup, tumbling through the atmosphere in a flurry of blue skirts, laughing. We're going to burn up, we're going to burn up. Is this what she wants? To see how I deal under pressure? WHAT DOES SHE WANT?

WHAT DO-

Her arms are around me as I watch the ship burn up in the atmosphere. We're glowing hot, like the Sun behind us. I feel warm in the coldness of space. Fucking hell, we are in our lounge clothes, falling to our death, and enveloped in warmness. It's her. Marabell's on fire.

She's still laughing, and I can see sugar in her teeth, glistening in the solar flare that surrounds us. She is crazy. She is unpredictable. Did she mean to spill her tea on the controls of an unreliable ship? I hear a crash, but it wasn't us. Her ship lay in ruins below us, and I am sweltering now and it is not because of her flare. It's because my legs are being eaten up by flame, and so are her's. But she doesn't care.

She. Doesn't. Care.

We hit the ground hard, and I feel bones cracking and then I'm gone. Floating, watching a replay of what just happened. We fell through space, we crashed. Marabelle smiling. Coffee mugs. Honey.

Honey.

I'm on my feet, next to her body. She is alive, her eyes are blinking and she has a stupid smile on her face even though bones in her body are sticking out in places they shouldn't be. Her skirts were singed black, and her legs were caked in burns.

She is madness, insanity, reality. Maybe she isn't looking for the truth. Maybe she's found it.

NOTE- I do not know if I will actually give these characters a plot like there is in Watch As We Burn..but I have fallen in love with my wacko Warlock, for sure... I tried to arrange these mini story spurts the best I can in order, but some of the things I written are vague, time wise. I hope you like my characters as much as I do.

If you haven't already, check out my other Destiny in-progress story..

As for this mini collection, I have one more drabble I will post and then this installment will be completed for now. It focuses on the Festival and Florence and Marabell's friendship more then Marabell and Banner.

Thank you to anyone who is reading this, please review I LOVE seeing my inbox light up with Fanfiction mail. Have a spooktacular day!


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